8. Annabelle
Annabelle
W hen I pull up to the school parking lot, Kevin is out of the car before it even comes to a stop.
“Kevin!” I slam on the brakes but smile when I hear him laugh as he runs down to the field where all his friends are waiting.
“Kev, Kev!” Noah squeals and I turn off the ignition, grab my things, and get him from the car.
“You want to play baseball one day, Noah?” I ask him as he holds my hand and walks next to me, stumbling a little as we head down to the grassy patch where kids and parents all gather.
“Yes. Baseball is my favorite.” He grins, his baby teeth on show. He’s the cutest little boy, and I pray every night he never has to experience going without like Kevin has. My stomach drops just thinking about it.
“Good morning, Annabelle. Is Kevin all ready for today?” Hudson, our local doctor and the father of Kevin's friend, Harvey, asks.
“He’s so excited. I’m not sure he even slept last night.” I grin, trying to stifle the yawn that threatens because I didn’t sleep much either.
“Yeah, I think he’ll love it. It’s all Harvey’s been speaking about this week.” Hudson and I stand together, watching them all get ready. The kids look comically small for all the equipment.
“Alright, boys. Let’s play ball!” I hear Bob yell from the side. He’s the general manager of the team, and all the kids scramble as they gather around their coach, another one of the parents, volunteering his time.
“Ahh, about time he showed up,” I hear Hudson say, and I follow his gaze, stalling when I see who he’s talking about. Sawyer is walking toward us. He isn’t in a suit today. Instead, he’s wearing jeans and a Henley, with a jacket over the top. Casual, yet still extremely well put together.
“Is he coming to watch Harvey?” I have no idea why he would be here at a Saturday morning kids’ baseball game.
“Yeah, he’s also sponsoring the team this year, so I made him come.”
“Ohhh…” is all I can muster, still in shock at seeing him here.
I watch as Sawyer chats to Bob, shaking hands and passing over something that looks like a check.
If he’s a sponsor, then it’s likely he’ll come to more games.
I’ll probably see him most weekends if he decides to support the team with more than just his bank account.
“Seesaw… Seesaw…” Noah says, giggling, jumping up and down, clearly remembering the man who visited us. At the noise, Sawyer looks up, locking eyes with me.
I offer a small smile as I grip on to Noah’s hand, keeping him close as the kids get settled on the field and the game begins. I try to watch, but my eyes continue to flick to Sawyer, where he still stands talking with Bob before their conversation ends and he heads our way.
“Morning,” Sawyer says casually to both Hudson and me as he stands next to me. Noah gazes up at him like he’s a real-life superhero or something. I’m now in the middle of two men who are both probably worth more than most of the town residents put together.
“Seesaw!” Noah says a little louder, and we all laugh.
“Hey, champ.” Sawyer puts out his fist, my little son fist-bumping him, and my chest heats. “Nice to see you, Annabelle.” His face is a little softer than the other few times we’ve met. Must be because it’s the weekend and he’s out of work mode.
“Didn’t pick you as someone who would take in kids’ sports on a Saturday morning.”
He grins at me, and I squeeze Noah's hand to keep me grounded so I don’t swoon.
“Yeah, well, Whispers is growing on me a little.” His eyes travel down my front and back up again, and my body tingles. God, is it hot here?
“It has that effect on people.” A tornado could run through the game at the moment and we wouldn't know. Our gazes are locked, our bodies close enough that I can feel his warmth against my own. I have no idea what’s going on, but it’s like I’m buzzing just from being this close to him.
“Oh, Harvey’s up,” Hudson says, popping whatever bubble we just found ourselves in, and we all focus. The pitcher is a big kid, and I wonder if he’s the correct age for this group.
“Ahhh, what age group is this?” I didn’t look at the details; I just signed Kevin up because I knew he wanted to play so badly.
“We only have enough kids to put one team together, so sometimes that means we play older kids. Not always ideal, but at least our kids get to play,” Hudson explains, and I frown as I look back to the field.
The pitch is thrown, and it’s fast, but Harvey hits it, immediately running to first base, and we all clap.
“That kid looks like he belongs in high school,” Sawyer says, and I look up at him, his brow furrowed, not liking this setup any more than I do. As I look back at the game, Kevin’s walking up to the plate.
“Oh, Kevin’s up next.” My heart feels like it’s pounding out of my chest as I try to rein in my excitement and pride at seeing him actually playing sports with his friends.
“He looks confident,” Sawyer murmurs, and I see him eyeing the pitcher and then Kevin as they get ready to play and my heart races.
“Kev! Kev!” Noah shouts, and when Kevin looks our way, I give him a wave. We’re probably embarrassing him, but he smiles, happy just to be on the field.
“Has Kevin played before?” Sawyer asks me, and I shake my head.
“No. I mean, at school and with his friends, yes, and he’s always throwing balls at home, but first time on a team.
” I pray he hits the ball, but I’m unsure given the size of the pitcher if he’ll make contact.
I swallow past a lump in my throat, not expecting to be this nervous.
I’m starting to understand how parents get a little crazy on the sidelines at sports sometimes. I already need to take a deep breath.
“He’s fine. He’s got this,” Sawyer says quietly and stands a little closer.
His eyes are warm and watching me like a hawk.
He’s offering me his silent support, and I feel a little lightheaded.
It’s not that I don’t have men around me; I just don’t have them around me like this.
And Sawyer makes me nervous, but not in a bad way.
In a way I’m just not used to. I give him a small nod, still praying Kevin makes the hit.
“Here we go,” Hudson says, and I squeeze Noah's hands tight, holding my breath as I watch.
The pitcher throws the ball, and it’s even faster, moving straight past Kevin and hitting the gloves of the backstop with a thud. I blow out my breath as a few parents clap.
“Oh God, I think I’m going to throw up.”
Sawyer looks at me, a little panicked, before I smile and he relaxes.
“Breathe and enjoy the moment. No matter the outcome, they’ll always remember that you were here, believing in them.
” Something about his words makes me think he has firsthand experience.
His shoulder nudges mine, the movement catching me a little off guard, but I can’t help smiling before we both look back in time for the next pitch, which follows the first, straight into the gloves of the backstop.
“You’ve got this Kevin!” Sawyer claps like many of the other parents around us, and I inhale sharply.
Kevin looks around at us in confusion, watching Sawyer, me, and Hudson, and we all clap for him before he nods to me and then turns back to focus.
Determination runs through his bones, and I see it set on his little face.
I hold my breath and squeeze Noah's hand so hard I’m surprised he doesn’t yelp as the next pitch is thrown, and it connects. Kevin hits it and hits it well. So well, he stands there in shock for a moment.
“Run!” Sawyer shouts his encouragement, and Kevin drops the bat and runs to first base as Harvey sprints to second.
“Keep going!” Hudson calls out, and the two of them keep running as my heart pounds and I feel my eyes water a little.
“Home! Run home!” Sawyer shouts again as all the kids on his team are jumping up and down, the parents all clapping and cheering. Both Harvey and Kevin run straight home and into the arms of their teammates.
“Well, looks like he has some natural talent.” Hudson grins at me before he talks to a parent on his other side. I take a deep breath and compose myself, pride, happiness, and gratitude filling me as I watch my son celebrate with his friends.
“See, I told you he had it.” I look up at Sawyer and see him smiling too. He’s standing so close, I smell his cologne. Masculine, fresh, the kind that makes me a little weak at the knees. God, it’s been a long time since I’ve smelled anything like that.
“Yeah, he did good.” I’m filled with relief now that he has the first hit out of the way.
“So did you.” He smiles. He looks good with a smile. His teeth are blinding, but he has kind eyes, and the way he looks at me warms me.
“Sorry, it’s all a bit new and overwhelming.
” I try to compose myself as my emotions run rampant at seeing my little boy enjoy the game he’s wanted to play for years but never could.
Sawyer looks at me in that assessing way he does, although this time, he holds something more akin to admiration in his gaze.
“Don’t apologize, Mama,” he says, low and deep, and I think I forget to breathe. I bite the inside of my lip, needing to close my mouth so I don’t gape at him.
“I used to love it when my mom came to watch me play baseball as a kid.”
I tilt my head to look at him. He’s opening up, talking more, and I wonder what Rochelle put in his coffee this morning. Maybe Daisy has some type of special tincture that’s used at the diner to ensure their customers are always happy or something.
“You used to play?” I ask, not seeing it. I’m assuming he grew up wealthy, probably went to private school, had a chauffeur and all that.
“Played all through school. It was my sport of choice, until I got a bit older and concentrated on my studies for law school.”
“Harvard?” I guess, because that’s where all the rich kids go, isn’t it?
“No. CUNY. Got a scholarship,” he says quickly before looking back at the game while I stare at him, open-mouthed. CUNY is a good school, but not where I thought a rich kid like Sawyer would ever go.
“Smart as well as sporty, then?” I say playfully.
He looks back at me with a little grin on his lips. I like this. Talking, getting to know someone new, someone who doesn’t look at me with pity.
“What about you? Did you play sports?”
“Not really. I was more into art and literature. I love having my head stuck in a book or sketching something.” I grew up here in Whispers, and if you didn’t play sports, there wasn’t really too much else to do as a kid. Probably why I gravitated to making soap so well.
“Sketching?”
“Yeah. Just objects, plants, the kids…” I shrug. I feel a little embarrassed, no longer having time for hobbies, yet the pencil and small drawing pad sit untouched at home, where I know one day I will get back into it.
“An artistic bookworm, huh?” He’s clearly teasing, and it makes me smile.
“Something like that.”
Maybe I misjudged him. Maybe he was just stressed this week over the move and the changes to his law firm. I would imagine it would be a pretty big adjustment for him.
“Will you be home later? I might come by and pick up that paperwork.”
My smile falters, and I feel heaviness in the pit of my stomach as realization washes over me that he’s making small talk because he wants the paperwork.
Of course he does. He’s a businessman. They call this networking, and I can’t believe I thought it was something more.
Disappointment fills me, as does the embarrassment at even thinking a man like Sawyer might be interested in me.
A single mom, who lives in the middle of nowhere, struggling to make ends meet. God, I’m so stupid.
“Yes. That’s fine.” I continue giving him a smile, one that doesn’t quite meet my eyes.
Maybe I need to get out more. I’ve obviously been in my own world for far too long if I can’t decipher business talk from personal interest. I can’t even read the plays men make anymore.
Not that I ever could. I’ve only ever been with one man, and he’s no longer even alive.
Before he can say anything else, some of the women from town come up and start talking, asking Sawyer questions, and he’s pulled away.
The women crowd around him, some moms I know from school and other women whom I never would’ve assumed to be at the kids’ sporting fields before.
They’re obviously not here to watch anyone.
I take Noah’s hand and lead him away from what’s clearly a flirt fest with our newest resident.
With Kevin now on the bench, Noah and I hit the playground to burn off some of his energy. Because the new guy in town is not for a girl like me. I need to remember that.